


The Second Death of Ronan Lynch

by fictitiousregrets



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousregrets/pseuds/fictitiousregrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years, and Adam is still grieving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Death of Ronan Lynch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PsycoticLollipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsycoticLollipop/gifts).



> This one's for Vero--happy birthday!!! <3

It had been three years. Three years since Ronan died, and Adam Parrish was still waking up screaming in the middle of the night.

     God, there had been so much blood. 

     The reactions hadn't been that bad at first, because the nightmares were so constant that he simply woke up in a cold sweat with his heart hammering against his ribcage, threatening to crack his ribs from the inside.

     They were worse, now that they were spread out and Adam only occasionally saw Ronan's staring blue eyes, his limbs all—

     Adam couldn't finish the thought. He bolted to the bathroom and clutched the toilet's sides as he threw up, his stomach violently revolting within him.

     He had gone to the funeral out of respect, but deep inside, he wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere but at St. Agnes, where Ronan went to worship every Sunday. The residence Ronan had found for him, had helped pay for. The wake had taken place at the Barns, and while Matthew, Adam, Gansey, Noah, and Blue sat in the living room, the latter three holding alcoholic drinks and sharing happy stories about Ronan despite the grief crushing their hearts, Declan knelt in the adjoining room with the closed casket containing Ronan's stitched-together body, clutching a rosary.

     They could hear him murmuring in Irish, the place was so quiet. No light peeked out from beneath the door to the other room.

     "He was so present," Gansey said hollowly. He could say no more, because the words seemed to catch in his throat by the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

     Adam knew the feeling, but not as intensely as Gansey. He had loved Ronan so much. Gansey had loved Ronan so, so much.

     Sometimes Adam wished he'd had time to love Ronan like that, or better. He was ashamed when he thought of how he'd told Ronan that next time, he could die alone. Because he had. There he was now, in the cold dark earth. And Adam had only the cold sides of his toilet to hold in the night.

     He should have moved on. He should have been able to.

     Adam fell asleep on the bathroom floor, tear tracks on his face.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Adam thought he saw Ronan in the streets. But when he looked again, it was some other kid with a buzzcut and a leather jacket, and he didn't own them like Ronan had. Gansey admitted once, after a few glasses of wine with Adam when he was visiting, that he thought sometimes he saw Ronan too. Three years, and they were still grieving.

     His guidance counselor always said that it was unlikely that Ronan would be graduating. It turned out that he was right.

     The rest of them went to college. Adam was at Harvard on a full financial aid scholarship due to his high need and excellent grades, Gansey went to Georgetown to stay near Blue, and the aforementioned yogurt-loving girl went to Henrietta Community College to take care of Noah and get a degree in ecology while she was at it.

     Nobody said anything about where Ronan would have been.

     In classes, sometimes Adam thought about Ronan being there with him--the bored look that would have been on his face, the blatant disrespect he would have shown his professor until the professor had earned respect. Sometimes he remembered Ronan's violent handwriting spelling out ANARCHY in capital letters across Cheng's petition.

     He'd kept the tub of lotion with _manibus_ on the bottom. Sometimes he would run his fingers across it.

     In a way, Ronan's death was his fault.

 

* * *

 

His roommate grabbed the box of Cheerios from atop the cabinets and shook it, frowning. "Hey Parrish, did you eat all the Cheerios?"

     Adam turned from his oatmeal, surprised. "I was going to ask you that."

     "Maybe we have a ghost," his roommate joked.

     Noah couldn't eat. It wasn't possible. Adam shrugged—maybe one of his roommate's friends had eaten the box and they just didn't notice.

     "Coincidence," Adam said, because it wasn't.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Adam wondered if Ronan was a ghost. He hadn't died on the ley line, so it was highly unlikely. But the way he had been murdered suggested that it was a ritualistic killing. Whoever had done a number on him like that had been too meticulous in their cuts, too precise in their placement of Ronan's body to make it any other reason.

     He would have done something like eat Adam's cereal and drive him completely nuts in the afterlife. Adam continued to write his paper.

     His prepaid cell rang three times from next to his secondhand laptop—he let it ring a little longer because the shock at who was calling had not yet worn off.

     Declan Lynch. 

     Cautiously, Adam flipped the phone open and said, "Hello?"

     "Adam, we need to talk."

     "What's it about?"

     Declan sounded grim. "Ronan." 

     Adam's heart sprang forth in his chest. It thudded hard for the next few beats. "Not over the phone."

     "I know. I'm taking a plane up to Cambridge right now."

 

* * *

 

Declan Lynch sat across from Adam Parrish in a Starbucks, holding his tall Pike between his hands like Ronan would hold Chainsaw. Held Chainsaw, Adam corrected himself. She was still awake and flying around ever since they figured out how to expand the ley line like a hologram over the real world. It was the one thing Declan seemed to be happy about—he still had Matthew. 

     With Matthew and Chainsaw around, sometimes Adam felt like there were still pieces of Ronan left to love.

     "Someone took money out of his inheritance," Declan said grimly.

     Adam leaned forward, arms braced on his open thighs and fingers laced together. "When?"

     "Just before he... passed.” Declan visibly tried to cover up his hesitation by clearing his throat. “We've been trying to figure it out since, but the trail went completely cold. It was routed to some Swiss bank, and they wouldn't tell us anything." He looked pissed about it, Adam noted. Rightly so. "Probably the same asshole who—" With that, Declan cut off abruptly and looked away. There was silence, and then he sighed. "It wasn't enough that I had to lose him. This is insulting."

     Adam nodded. Something in him felt savage at the news, and he understood what Declan meant. They took his Ronan, and it wasn't enough? Ronan’s life was precious. Ronan’s life was worth much, much more than three million dollars.

     Thinking about it made Adam furious. It was taking all of his self-control not to crush his latte with a fist and then hurl it at a wall--he’d thought his anger management issues were done with, were through with that kicked box from a very long time ago, but this news shook him like an earthquake with a 10.0 magnitude.

     “You must have had a reason for calling me,” Adam said tightly. “You’ve known for so long. There must’ve been a development.”

     Declan opened his suitcase and removed a folder, tossing it onto the table. “Open that.”

     Normally, Adam might have been slightly irritated at being ordered around like this, but his interest was piqued. He opened the folder and his heart beat hard in his chest. “Is that--?”

     “We found a hacker. Good enough to find out where the money was routed to from that Swiss bank. I thought you should know.”

     “Why me, though?”

     Declan gave him a look. “You know exactly why, Parrish.”

     As it happened, Adam did know exactly why. After Declan had left the room with the closed casket, Adam had put a hand on his forearm and asked quietly if he could go in to see Ronan. He had gotten a curious look in return, but Declan had nodded and shut the door behind Adam when he went in. In the room, Adam touched the casket softly and said, out loud, “I’m sorry you died alone." 

     Then he had cried. He had broken down sobbing over the coffin, had remembered every time Ronan had touched him, every time he had looked away, every nice thing he had ever done for him, the worth he had felt in himself when he found out that Ronan wanted him, of all the people he could have chosen.

     He would have said yes, if Ronan had asked. He should have asked first. He should have been there.

     He should have been there.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, this is getting weird and ridiculous,” Adam’s roommate complained again.

     Through a mouthful of eggs and sausage, Adam said, “What are you talking about?”

     “The fucking cereal, man. Who is eating all of our cereal? First the Cheerios and now my goddamn Fruity Pebbles. What’s next? The Cocoa Puffs? The Lucky Charms?” Chad or Brad or something groaned and flopped down on the couch. “They’re after me lucky charms,” he said in a terrible Irish accent.

     Adam’s stomach dropped. He’d sounded a little like Ronan there for a second. And God, when was he going to get over Ronan? When was this going to happen, when were his stages of grief going to be over? To cover his slip-up, he shrugged and took another bite of sausage. “Are you sure it’s not one of your frat boy friends sneaking in and stealing our cereal for hazing rituals?”

     Chad or Brad--he was really going to have to ask one of these days--sat upright. “No way, man. None of them have the keys to this place.”

     Now that caught Adam’s interest. “Then…?”

     “Bro.” His roommate looked at him with wide eyes. “We got a mystery on our hands.”

     “Please don’t.”

     “To the mystery machine!” Adam’s roommate shouted, and leapt off the couch, running out of the apartment.

     Adam stayed and finished his breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Stages of grief were said to come in sevens. Adam was sure he was still somewhere on step three. Whatever step three was. It was just that no one he had loved had died before. Not like that.

     Gansey and Blue were sitting with him on the steps of Monmouth Manufacturing. Gansey was holding a cup of Starbucks coffee tight between his palms, and Blue was eating steamed broccoli out of a recyclable cardboard container. There was a comfortable silence, and then Gansey said quietly, "You didn't have to come all the way down here, Adam."

     Adam gave him a look that told him that he was being obtuse. "He's here, and it's the third anniversary. I'm not heartless, Gansey."

     "I never said you were," Gansey said cautiously, and Adam recognized this tone. This was the tone Gansey took with Ronan when he thought Ronan had been hurting. Adam shook the thought off. He saw Blue shoot Gansey a look, broccoli stuffed in her mouth.

     "Y'know," Adam muttered, "someone's been eating our cereal at my dorm."

     Blue raised an eyebrow that asked, _Noah?_ while munching more broccoli. 

     In response, Adam shook his head. "Noah doesn't eat. We don't know who could have snuck in."

     Blue swallowed her broccoli and then pointed her fork at Adam. “If you want, I could ask Calla to touch one of the cereal boxes?”

     Adam shook his head again, sighing. “I didn’t bring any with me, and it’d take too long to bring one down here.”

     Gansey swirled his coffee around and then found the heart to chug it down. "You could always ask Noah to keep an eye out."

     Adam shrugged. "He probably has better things to do."

     "Suit yourself."

     "I miss him."

     The sudden admission from Adam startled Gansey and worried Blue, who reached out for Adam’s hand and squeezed.

     "Me, too," Gansey said finally, not looking at Blue and Adam’s clasped hands, and started fiddling with the sleeve on his empty cup. "I still love him."

     Adam put a hand on Gansey's shoulder and squeezed. _Me, too._

 

* * *

 

"Come with me," Declan snapped one day as he stopped his car in front of Adam Parrish, passenger door thrown wide open. "Now."

     "You found him?" 

     "Yeah."

     Adam got in without argument. The car ride was silent and speedy, the engine growling as Declan pushed for the gas. Matthew was not in the car. How could innocent Matthew be involved with this? No, this was best left to a magician and a perpetually angry brother.

     "Name?"

     "Alias. Sean Ó Loingsigh."

     Adam raised an eyebrow at the heavily Irish name. "A family friend?"

     "Wouldn't know," Declan spat between gritted teeth. "Our father kept his friends far from us until it really mattered." 

     That made Adam stay quiet for the rest of the ride until Declan parked abruptly and yet perfectly by the curb, slamming the door as he got out.

     Adam got out of the car considerably more calmly. "Declan, where are we?"

     "Edge of Cambridge."

     The car ride hadn't even taken that long, Adam realized. Declan had to be right. "Is this the place?" 

     "Yeah." 

     Adam was both nervous and furious. His fingers shook with the sudden passionate emotions. "Ring the bell," he rasped. "Please. Do it."

     Declan smashed the doorbell for five seconds and then let go.

     Silence.

     "Do you think he's not home?" Adam asked quietly.

     "Doubt it," Declan all but snarled. The front door suddenly buzzed open and Adam started, pushing it open. He gave Declan a look that the eldest Lynch returned with confusion.

     They went inside and ascended to the highest floor to meet Ronan's murderer.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Adam noticed was that Cabeswater was rustling in his deaf ear. _Finally, finally_ , the trees whispered. The apartment was dark and unlocked, so Declan had his handgun out and ready to fire.

     Adam had only been this terrified and nervous the second time his father had gotten drunk, but to think of this person as Ronan's killer somehow made it different. It made him angrier.

     Then, out of the darkness:

     "Put the handgun down and settle this with your fists, fuckass."

     A hulking shadow stood up from the couch where it had been stationed, and seemed to shove its hands in its pockets. Adam felt around for a light switch, and 

_Three years._

     But it couldn't be? 

     Too late, Adam remembered a twisted body in a church and wanted to hit himself for not having figured it out sooner.

     He shoved Declan aside and punched Ronan Lynch in the jaw as hard as he could.

     "Three. Fucking. _Years_ , you piece of shit!" he shouted at Ronan, furious and raw with fresh grief. He grabbed Ronan's collar and suddenly he was standing over a Ronan Lynch with a split lip and eyebrow, his jaw beginning to bruise. There were tears on his face, but there were no tear tracks from his eyes, and Adam was straddling him with his collar still in bloody fists.

     Ronan said nothing.

     Declan put the gun on the counter and tightly crossed his arms over his chest. He was letting Adam have this, he realized. Adam slumped over onto Ronan, burying his face in Ronan's shoulder. "Three years," he said, muffled, watery. "You _fuck_."

     "Are you done?" Ronan asked evenly.

     "Yeah." Adam bit the word off like poison.

     Ronan turned his head to look at Declan coolly. "You want a turn using me as a punching bag too?"

     Declan's knuckles whitened. "You faked it, you fucker?"

     Ronan slumped against the ground, and Adam got off him, sitting on the couch and covering his hands with his face, tired.

     "They wanted the Greywaren," Ronan said. "So I took it away from them."

     Declan closed his eyes and then—"Why the FUCK didn't you tell us, you asshole?" he shouted.

     "BECAUSE!" Ronan snapped back, "You think I wanted them coming after you for information? Getting information? Hurting you in the process? Fuck no." He stared at the ceiling. "Fuck no," he repeated emphatically.

     "But it was a lie," Adam said lowly.

     Ronan looked at him. "Not necessarily. Not if part of me was already dead. Also, Parrish, I've been eating your cereal."

     Adam let out a laugh that could have also been a sob. "Why didn't you just start with the fucking Lucky Charms?" 

     "The marshmallow bits get stuck in my teeth."

 

* * *

 

It took a while to forgive Ronan for that. It took a while for all of them to forgive him. Even when Adam was curled up against Ronan at night, he wondered if he would be able to withstand a third death of Ronan Lynch.

    It was enough, Adam decided finally, to have him back for now. As long as he didn’t eat all of the cereal again.

**Author's Note:**

> if no one noticed by this point, this is that one AU prompt from tumblr that goes something like "You faked your death for three years and ate all my cereal???"
> 
> i tried to make it as serious as i could until i just couldn't anymore


End file.
